Maxwell B Anderson

Glib. - Poem by Maxwell B Anderson

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Hearing and dancing to raindrops pelting my windows and roofThen, screaming sirens wailing too piercing to notice me taking a break Call me on the telephone to break the sickening dull.Of course I could call you if I had your numberor some spare coin change.But now I realise I am just dead.Not Dead.Just Sick from Pain.I hate it.I hate illness that anyone has.Please try..Cause I really am sick. sick of Glib.